After Miranda departed, but before I could lay out my plans to dig up dirt on Jekyll, the phone rang. When Sheyenne answered, I could hear a frantic voice on the other end. She said, “Mr. Fennerman? Stay calm, Mr. Fennerman. Yes, he’s right next to me.”
She handed me the phone, and I heard the nervous vampire’s voice warbling over the line. “They’re back, and they’ve ignored the restraining order! Please help!”
I said in the calmest voice possible, “What are they doing, Sheldon? Are you safe?”
“For now. They can’t get in, but they’re pounding on the door. They broke my windows. I can hear them outside! They’re coming to get me.”
“Did you call the police?”
“They put me on hold. Mr. Chambeaux, save me!”
“I’ll be right there, Sheldon. Just hang tight.”
I’d thought the morons would lie low for at least a day or two, but something must have egged them on. I tucked my piece in its shoulder holster and headed out. With the pistol I could scare the Straight Edge dweebs away for now, but they could always harass the vampire again. Since I did not intend to set up a new career as a doorman at Sheldon Fennerman’s brownstone, I needed a more permanent solution, one that would make the Straight Edgers leave my client alone.
As I hit the street, I took out my phone and punched in another number. Time to call in reinforcements.
* * *
Splattered raw eggs left gooey starbursts on Sheldon’s front door. Rocks had broken the black glass of his windows. The three young men—Patrick, Scott, and Todd—wearing red T-shirts with the white line down the front, lounged on the street corner as if pretending to be hoodlums, but they didn’t look old enough to smoke. Priscilla, the shrewish young woman, stood beside them waving a new hand-lettered sign:
UNDEAD
UNCLEAN
UNWANTED
I was surprised they had the balls to be so overt; I’d thought they were nothing more than armchair terrorists. Maybe Jekyll himself had coerced them into this underhanded retaliation. It was common knowledge that Fennerman was a Chambeaux & Deyer client, under our protection, and Harvey could well have riled them up just to cause trouble after Robin and I visited him in his factory office. Maybe he’d even promised these kids their own secret decoder rings if they completed their mission.
The Straight Edgers recognized me as I approached. “Did you have trouble reading the restraining order I served you? Too many big words?”
“We’re on a public street,” Priscilla sneered.
“You’re harassing my client. I can see the broken windows.”
“It was an accident,” Todd said. “We’d apologize and offer to pay, but we can’t go within fifty feet of him.”
“And the eggs?”
“We were delivering groceries,” Scott said. “I tripped, and they went flying.”
The Straight Edgers were so full of themselves they didn’t seem to realize where they were. The unnaturals already despised them and their intolerant activities. Priscilla, Scott, Todd, and Patrick were close to being fatally clueless.
Hearing the ruckus, a few monsters had stepped out of their front doors or emerged from their businesses, looking with disdain at the demonstrators. Some of the unnaturals rolled their slitted eyes, viewing the Straight Edgers as ill-behaved children who needed a good scolding and a weekend of public service. Other creatures, though, seemed happy for an excuse to return to their baser natures.
“We have a right to free speech, man,” Patrick said. “Our opinion is our opinion.”
“And everybody has one,” I said, stepping closer, in their faces. “Like assholes.”
This confrontation had the potential to degenerate into one of those interminably stupid “I know you are, but what am I?” debates. The mood of the gathered unnaturals was getting ugly. Claws extended, fangs bared. I had already rescued the beanpole Todd from a troll’s deep fryer; now maybe I’d have to intervene to keep these dweebs from becoming a Straight Edge smorgasbord—and that really annoyed me. I was here to protect Sheldon, not his harassers.
I looked up with relief to see the black-gowned bulk of Mavis Wannovich waddling toward us, accompanied by the huge sow, as if the two were out for an afternoon stroll. Mavis carried her spell book now, confident and unafraid. And thanks to an anti-glamour spell Mavis had worked on her sister, Alma now smelled like sauerkraut rather than delectable pork, which kept her safe from the unnaturals who had considered her a snack a few days ago.
“Ah, Mavis! Thank you for coming down to help.” I raised a hand to greet her.
Both sisters seemed renewed, self-esteem bolstered by their new positions at the publishing house. “Delighted to be of assistance, Mr. Chambeaux. One small way we can repay you for your kindness.”
The Straight Edgers hooted and jeered. “Ooh, he’s brought in a pig as reinforcements. I’m scaaaared!”
“Throw water on the witch and see if she starts melting,” Priscilla suggested.
Mavis glared at them with a gaze that nearly turned them to stone. “Just try it, you little snots, and we’ll see who starts melting. Better watch out, or I’ll turn to page sixty-two!”
While the sow stood guard, Mavis opened her spell book. I slipped down the two steps to Sheldon Fennerman’s front door and rapped with my knuckles. “Open up, Sheldon. It’s Dan Chambeaux.”
“I’m not coming out! It isn’t safe!”
“I’ve got your back, don’t worry. I need you to watch this, trust me. It’ll be the end of all your troubles.”
The door opened a crack, and the vampire poked his face out. “Is it going to bring my friends back? All the other vampires in the neighborhood?”
“I’m afraid they’re not coming back, Sheldon, but at least you’ll be safe.”
Undeterred, Priscilla kept pumping her sign up and down, but she didn’t continue her insults. All four looked queasy, trying to summon nonexistent courage from one another. The angry unnaturals on the street growled, as if they didn’t want to wait for what I intended to do. “Humans, go home!” yelled a man who looked very human, probably an un-transformed werewolf.
“Fresh meat,” a shambler said in a voice that sounded like a rumbling stomach.
A tall, pasty-faced necromancer moaned, “Why can’t we all just get along?”
A potbellied ghost drifted among the angry people, glaring at the scrawny punks. “You’re not better than us!”
I brought Sheldon out into the daylight, and he hunched into his loose bathrobe, keeping to the shadows of his front step. I removed my fedora and placed it on the vampire’s head to shield him from the sun. “Sheldon Fennerman, I’d like you to meet Mavis Wannovich and her sister Alma, two other clients of mine.”
“Very satisfied clients.” Mavis smiled. “Mr. Chambeaux and Ms. Deyer solved our problems in a most satisfactory way, and he’s asked me to help.”
“Thank you,” Sheldon said, “for whatever it is you’re going to do.”
“We’re going to protect you.” Mavis leafed through the spell book, found the correct page, cleared her throat, and glared at the Straight Edgers. “It’s only fair to warn you that this is a very powerful protective spell, although you bullies already deserve whatever you’ve got coming to you.”
“You don’t scare me,” said Todd, looking even more scared than when I’d rescued him from the hot-oil hot tub.
“A pity,” Mavis said. “I’m casting this spell over Mr. Fennerman’s domicile and his person. Anyone who harms him, or even threatens to harm him, will regret it.”
“W-what does the spell do?” Patrick asked.
I said to her, “Be specific, Mavis. They’re slow learners.”
The witch grinned at the cringing Straight Edgers. “Anyone who harms, or threatens to harm, Mr. Fennerman will experience severe gastric distress. This spell will transform your last meal into a clump of live cockroaches inside your stomach—cockroaches that will do their best to burrow their way out.”
Meanwhile, the crowd of monsters had started out ugly and was getting uglier.
“Maybe you should hurry up, Mavis,” I whispered.
The witch began reading the incantation, drawing designs in the air and—more for theatrics than magical efficacy—she threw a pinch of smoke powder and set off a tiny bang. Priscilla dropped her sign with a clatter, and the Straight Edgers scattered like crows startled from an old corpse.
Some of the unnaturals glared after them, as if sniffing blood.
“Are they really gone?” Sheldon had tears in his eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Chambeaux! Thank you, madam, and you …” He nodded toward the sow, who grunted amiably.
“They won’t bother you again,” Mavis said. “Or if they do, they’ll catch a stomach bug they won’t soon forget.”
I picked up Priscilla’s discarded sign and brought it to Sheldon. “Keep this as a souvenir.” The vampire was beaming with a smile so wide that I could see the full extent of his very small fangs.
“Would you like to come over for dinner, Mr. Chambeaux? Fondue again? Maybe some games?”
“Not right now. Thank you, Sheldon.” I took my hat back. “I have to keep my other clients happy as well.”
The skittish vampire looked crestfallen, then turned to Mavis and Alma. “Perhaps you ladies?”
“I love fondue!” Mavis said. Alma snuffled, sounding delighted. Sheldon opened his front door and ushered the sow and witch inside.